damned angels
by frays
Summary: (AU) When Massie Block dies, the guardian angel protecting her by the name of Derrick blindly saves her from the realm of the dead, and she attains the ability to see through the glamour protecting guardian angels and demons from being seen, threatening her life from both the demons around her and the fatal attraction to her golden-eyed charge.
1. o1

**Authors Note | **This idea has been in my head for a while, and I wanted to see how it looked down on paper.

Or virtual paper.

**Summary | **(AU) When Massie Block dies, the charge to the guardian angel by the name of Derrick blindly saves her from the realm of the dead, she attains the ability to see through the glamour protecting guardian angels and demons from being seen, threatening her life from both the demons around her and the fatal attraction to her golden-eyed charge.

**Disclaimer | **I do not own the clique.

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Derrick was an angel, but he sure as hell wasn't perfect.

His gold eyes flickered over as his charge crawled into her amber bedspread, clad in only an oversized green T-shirt that ran down to her thighs and a pair of black boyshorts. It was hot that night so the brunette girl only pulled the thin sheets over her, too hot to push the covers up her lithe body further than her tanned stomach.

He knew that she had always been afraid of the dark. He remembered when the beautiful girl was young, asking her parents to check her closets for monsters. He knew her fear for monsters had dimmed after she had watched _Monsters Inc_, a movie she would never admit presently that she still loved.

Like any eighteen-year-old girl would be, she was concerned always for what people would think or say about her, whether or not anyone liked her, or how to fit in. He had lived through dozens of charges, and every one of the humans he had guarded has the same need to be admired by the people around them.

Humans were afraid of rejection, something Derrick could never understand.

He had watched the amber eyed Massabielle change her name to Massie because she was teased so much, seen her pretend to hate to read because people mocked for it so much, heard her sob into her pillow when a Landon Crane had broken up with her because he love done of her friends. He had remembered wanting to remove his glamour and reveal the realm of the guardians just so he could punch the bastard who had broken Massie's delicate heart.

Then again, Massie had always made him more reckless.

He had always wanted to hit or burn any man he had seen who would ever make Massie smile or laugh, any man who would lay a hand on the beautiful amber-eyed girl, or any man she would look at who wouldn't look back at her.

He had never, and _would_ never be able to touch her.

He had never made her laugh or made her smile.

He stood nimbly, moving with a soundless grace that only an angel could achieve. His golden hair fell in his eyes as he moved, shaking away the hair that blocked his vision from her.

The night was pitch black, but he could see through the pure-gold aura that radiated around him. The glamour placed on him made him invisible to her, something he was grateful for. The band of golden light around him would wake her up; Massie needed her sleep.

She had fallen asleep by now, her restless state of sleep causing her blankets to swarm tightly around her long, tanned legs. He knew that she would wake if her sheets were too tight around her and gently tugged the sheets, untangling them with nimble fingers and pulling the thinner sheet back over her waist. His knuckles brushed against her flat stomach with the gesture, the shirt pushed up from her tossing, turning, and kicking.

He didn't feel it.

This was the work of the heavy glamour on him. Even if his skin was to come into contact with hers under this glamour, he wouldn't feel it. It had less of a sensation than touching a wall—there was a layer of glamour _between _them that kept him from feeling her skin, the same with touching skin with any one of his past charges.

Massie was different from any of his previous charges.

He had had a dozen different charges, living for nearly a thousand years now either guiding them away from trouble, leading them to safety, or simply protecting them.

He had never fallen in love with one of his charges.

He had never pictured himself falling for anyone, in actuality. While it was common for his race to fall in love, it was less than normal for a guardian to fall in love. They were always moving without their own agenda—they didn't have a choice where they would be able to go, or what they would be able to do.

The only way a guardian could truly be beside someone they loved was if the other was another guardian, and they worked with a charge close to the others charge. They could only be together when their charges were together, and even then it would be for a finite amount of time.

His work was his reason for existence.

Guardians were created to protect humans, and simply that. The blood that ran in them (golden blood, as he had found out) was designed as an instrument of perfection. They were made to be strong, smart, fast, and brave.

They were designed to protect their charge.

They weren't allowed to love their charges.

Love is blind, but love is also blinding. Blind eyes can never protect a charge, and blindness is a weakness. A guardian couldn't be weak—weakness is a flaw, and guardians are simply, structurally _perfect_.

It was difficult to tangle love into perfection, for what you loved would be your greatest weakness.

Derrick knew he was weaker now than he ever had been simply because of the sleeping girl with eyes made of amber and hair made of silk.

He would do anything for Massie, and would go to lengths further than a guardian was allowed to keep her safe.

The later it grew, the colder it became. He saw a gentle shiver go over his charge and went to her, gently pushing the comforter and sheets over her and wrapping the edges around her shoulders in the way that she always loved. He knew she felt safer, and had sweeter dreams when the covers were tight around simply because she felt more protected than she had before.

"Good night, Massie."

She couldn't hear him.

ஜஜ

Derrick was walking glamoured five feet behind his charge as she slipped into her English class, taking her place in the middle row and turning to the boy next to her as he spoke to her. He was too far from her to hear what the two were saying, but the same spike of jealousy went through him that he felt are too often.

"Derrick."

Derrick swore in a way his race had been taught not to as the air shimmered by him, moving slightly in a display of gold dust before his apprentice materialized next to him, glamoured as heavily as Derrick was.

"Goddamnit, Cam."

"It seems like with your demon count you'd learn by now not to shit your pants whenever I'm next to you." Cameron grinned at Derrick, his blue and green eyes flickering over to Derrick's charge.

Derrick let his wings unfurl for a moment, beating the feathers lightly a single time to sit atop a tall cabinet. Cam did the same, his inexperience with the powerful wings causing his head to slam against the ceiling, cracking the ceiling where his apprentice's head hit. They were, like every guardian was, too strong for their own good, and it took centuries to learn to control the strength they needed to protect their charges.

Derrick laughed softly as the students in the room looked up, seeing only a suddenly cracked wall and looking back down at their papers.

"Control yourself, Cameron."

Cam grinned at his friend, his green and blue eyes going over Derrick.

Of every guardian he had met, Derrick was the one to look most like an angel. His friend had gold, wavy hair like a Greek and eyes a thick molten gold color, the color of his eyes matching the raw, pure aura around him, looking like bands of spun gold around the reckless boy. His skin was tanned, making his straight, white teeth stand out, giving him a charming smile. His eyebrows and eyelashes were a dark enough shade to stand out against his evenly tanned skin as well, giving him striking features all around, making him a strange sight to look at. He was beautiful in an inhuman way—he was as beautiful as an angel, in such a way that if he were to let his glamour down, the thought of an angel would be the first one to come to mind when seeing him.

Cam was different. While more attractive than any human man, he didn't stand out as an angel. With extremely light skin, black hair, pointed canine teeth, and one blue eye, the other green, he could more easily be taken for a vampire than an angel—without, of course, his aura of gold, light gold halo that circled his raven-haired head, and broad white wings, the marks of an angel.

That, and the power of sunlight each angel held, guardian or not.

Though he had usually no need to use it—he preferred hand-to-hand combat or fighting with a weapon crafted from obsidian, the only element able to kill a demon—he could control and harness sunlight, using it as a weapon to burn predators or a demon lusting after the blood of a human.

Demons rarely attacked guardians—the golden blood that ran inside an angel was lethal to demons, and even the stupidest demons would be too intelligent to attack a guardian personally. It was suicide either way, and the magic of an angel was impossible to harness.

The black-blood of a demon could only only mix with the red-blood of a human or beast made from the earth—the underworld could not feed on their own or beings of heaven, the reason which the demons had invaded the grounds of earth originally.

The same reason guardians were needed.

Derrick absently pulled out one of the obsidian blades in his pockets, looking it over to see any traces of navy or black blood left from the beast he had killed days ago attacking Massie's best friend. It wasn't his job to protect the people around his charge, but he knew how badly the death of someone close to Massie would affect her, and therefore protected the people with her when he guarded her.

The girl whose life he had saved was easy prey for a demon. She was lithe and small, bathed in an innocence that made her vulnerable to any beast from the underworld. She was extremely alike and different than his charge, yet someone he had found to balance out the amber-eyed girl perfectly.

Her name was Claire Lyons—he had liked her name, though not understand the human need for surnames. Because angels were created by crafters, they had no family, and were born the age they looked. Derrick was born nineteen, created to be a guardian, given wits, strength, and agility so that he would be hard to fight or kill like any guardian.

He didn't, however, like the green-eyed girl's name as much as his apprentice did.

Derrick chuckled softly as he saw Cameron's gaze fall on the girl with the long, soft-blonde hair at the front of the room, sharing secret looks and smiles with her best friend and Derrick's charge as the teacher droned on about the Civil War, something Derrick's charge a hundred or so years prior had fought in. His charge had died rather young in that war, leaving Derrick for half a decade without anyone to watch over, something a bit strange for him.

A paper airplane sailed through the room, hitting Cam in the chest. The glamour around the apprentice left the people watching the plane oblivious to the heavenly creature it had crashed into, seeing only the plane crashing into an invisible wall.

The glamour put on Cam caused their minds not to question it.

Derrick both lived by and hated glamour.

He knew that the guardians needed to live, but he hated the barrier he had between his world and the human world.

He hated the reason he could never touch the amber-eyed senior he had fallen in love with.

::::::::::

The apprentice would seldom stay by Derrick's side.

He wasn't Claire's guard. He had no business by her, and wasn't to have an agenda to watch her—his priority was to be to stay behind Derrick for a hundred years time (ninety-five now) and observe him so that he could understand the work of a guardian angel, a process Derrick had been through, and hundreds before Derrick had gone through as well. His purpose now was to watch Derrick and follow his every command—_not_ to follow the little blonde girl and watch over _her_.

Cam knew Derrick was in love with Massie, possibly the reason Derrick had never reprimanded him for watching over the green-eyed girl. Cam didn't know what yet he felt for the small blonde girl he currently watched paint a rose, but he knew it was something, something he couldn't at all shake away from him.

He wanted her safe, and he didn't trust anyone else to keep her safe.

He was different from Derrick.

Derrick had always been wild, always reckless. Cam had never felt Derrick's jealousy—for him, it was enough to simply watch Claire laugh or smile. It was enough to watch others cause her joy or happiness, and it was always enough to hear the angelic sound of her laughter that would spike whenever she heard a joke or was tickled in a certain place.

He never thought the way Derrick did simply because he didn't know if he could bear to.

Looking at Claire and knowing he would never be the person making her happy would just about kill him.

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Massie was in a room with four girls he had come to know well—or rather observe well. They were sleeping over with each other, conversations he usually wasn't fond of hearing—especially when the names of whatever boy Massie liked or admired was present on their lips. It was irrational, he knew—because of the golden blood that ran inside him he was worlds more attractive than any of Massie's crushes, yet he felt the same jealousy whenever they were mentioned.

He felt suddenly cold.

The cold chill through him didn't pass, something that he knew didn't come from the temperature—he never felt hot or cold, the only times he would ever feel hot if he was too close to sunlight, and the only times he would feel too cold was when a beast from the underworld was present.

His golden eyes snapped to the window, watching as the leaves of the oak outside the redheads window shuddered ever so slightly. The golden eyes of the guardian narrowed, and his wings spread, shooting out the window with a nimble grace only a guardian could achieve.

"What's up?"

Cam materialized beside him, his apprentice's habit of coming at the worst possible times. Derrick swore more violently than before, his incandescent golden eyes directing his friend to the window the girls were inside.

"Guard them for me."

"What? I don't see—"

"You won't until you're fully trained."

Derrick let his aura and halo dim enough so that he wouldn't be so bright, not wanting to alert the demon he was hovering ten feet over of his presence until truly necessary. Cam gave his friend a hesitant look, and Derrick brightened his eyes only slightly, the essence of the sunlight in them stunning Cam into moving, quickly beating his wings so he was inside the room, watching the girls carefully.

Dimming the sunlight from his skin as best he could, Derrick unsheathed the obsidian sword from his belt, pulling it from his pocket and going to the ground soundlessly.

The demon was uglier than it had seemed from above.

It was breathing heavily, the sound raspy and unclean as though it had the blackened lungs of a human smoker, the sound amplified. The body of the beast seemed to be twisted, with a spine and bones that jutted out of the thin, sickly layer of flesh that seemed to be rotting, disintegrating, and growing back with every rising and falling of its chest.

It hadn't noticed the guardian behind him.

Derrick rammed the obsidian blade into the thin skin of the demons back, twisting the sword once it was as deep as it could go. The hit wasn't lethal, but it wasn't made to be; it was made to be a moment of pain or torture before Derrick sent the demon back to whatever hell hole it crawled out of.

The vibrations of some echoing words came from the demons lips, a demonic language no creature of heaven or earth could understand. Derrick only laughed from the sound, a rich sound of sadistic amusement as the demon whirled around, hissing at him through the forked tongue of a snake and glaring with the beaded eyes of a spider.

Grinning, he ducked under the demons swing, sidestepping easily so the beast would fall before hitting him,

"Haven't I killed you before?" He ducked under the claws of the demons, the look of happiness he held towards killing a demon strange to say the very least.  
"I can't tell—it's hard to tell one ugly face from another."

The demon shrieked as Derrick became bored of playing games with it, illuminating his obsidian blade with the sunlight he controlled and emitted and rammed the blade into the place where its heart should have been.

Demons didn't have hearts.

The shriek sounded as though the sound was being sucked away with a vacuum as the beast disappeared, twisting into blackness and falling into the dust Derrick was so familiar with creating.

Derrick wiped the black blood off of the obsidian sword with his black jeans, wrinkling his nose when the substance burned through his jeans and left a mark on his tanned thigh. He forgot frequently just how lethal the blood of a demon could be to his kind, but with the number of demons he had fought it seemed as though the golden boy should have remembered.

He couldn't remember now how many demons he had killed.

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**Authors Note | **Any questions just ask, and the most pertinent ones ones will be answered at the end of the next chapter, the rest PMed you you (unless you're a guest)

If anyone is interested in RPing, you can always always join our RP forum—many characters are still open, and everyone is invited to join.

**Question Of The Day**

[The Infernal Devices Fans] James 'Jem' Carstairs or William 'Will' Owen Herondale?

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	2. 02

**A/N: **I _do_ have the plot planned out for the story—it's much different than what someone would expect it to be, but I love anything supernatural, especially angels.

**Disclaimer |** I do not own the Clique. I only own the plot of the stories—I claim no rights to canon characters, brand names, mentions of social media, or anything else.

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The amber eyes of Massie Block flitted across the room, falling on the caramel suede couch her parents had bought to stage the house, a house they had grown too attached to to sell. They had stayed with memories, leaving the over-expensive furniture she felt had no value of comfort, only designed to look modern and beautiful.

She could have sworn the pillows were positioned differently than they had been when she had fallen asleep.

She noticed these small things surrounding her constantly. They were small, but they were _there_—when a binder had fallen in front of her to trip her, it was moved to the side before she could fall over it.

When she slammed her locker shut in a dramatic display of anger that made it pop back open quickly, it was paused before it could hit her by something she was damn well sure wasn't gravity.

And when she slept each night, the couch pillows and down of the suede was smally different than it had been the night prior.

She never mentioned it—she had always opted for silence, watching stilly as the things around her seamlessly shifted or moved to keep her safe or away from embarrassment.

In fourth grade, a girl had thrown her coffee cup filled with steaming pumpkin spice coffee to the amber eyed girl because who the girl liked liked Massie in return. Before the coffee could burn Massie, the girl tripped and spilled it on herself.

In seventh grade, Massie had tripped over her shoelace while walking down stairs. Her foot had locked without her will against the edge of a stair, keeping herself from cracking open her forehead open on the stone stairs.

In ninth grade, an enemy had taken a photo of Massie changing into her sports bra for cross country and threatened to post it on Facebook. The girl deleted the photo mistakenly while she had tried to update it, something Massie knew she would never willingly do.

Each time harm came her way, it was deflected with a wave of confusion.

She had only told Claire about this, hoping the platinum blonde would see through what the amber eyed girl was trying to tell her, that a strange _something _filled the air around her and pinned her behind a wall of confusion and safety than annoyed the hell out of her.

Claire didn't understand.

It frustrated her that her best friend didn't, but it was something she tried to think as little of as possible. It was easier to act as though she didn't see the shifting objects around her, disappearing obstacles, and the way the pillows moved each night.

While she knew there was something away from the norm moving about her, the thought of a golden-eyed boy watching over her with a reckless spirit and a protective gaze was the last prospect from her mind.

She had never been the most religious person—she was more scientific in the way that she believed what she saw, and put her mind behind solid facts rather than the supernatural.

Magic was difficult for a human mind to understand, and the scarce humans who had truly seen and believed magic were easily grown to insanity. The images of truth behind the glamour set out to protect a humans fragile mind from the reality of the creatures made of heaven and hell protecting and destroying the beings born from earth too bright for them to see.

There was scarcely a soul every thousand years strong enough to see through glamour, a talent to be developed and crafted once after the veil was let down.

It still was dangerous.

Massie was that soul.

::::::::::

Golden eyes flickered over his charge, paying little attention to the apprentice beside him, speaking of something he couldn't follow—he knew Cameron was speaking of seraphs, the angels who worked strictly in heaven and directly to God, much different and much easier than being a guardian.

He couldn't pay attention.

His charge was walking in a whirl of cold wind and rain, battering her face and prickling bumps over her arms, naked to the rain with her thin tank top, left sticking and sheer to her lightly tanned body.

It was a sight he would have normally thanked the stars for, but he was too concerned and swarmed by his curiosity and natural protective instinct for her to think of anything to materialize and ask her what the hell she was doing in the rain and wind, walking God knows where.

The sight would more likely drive her to insanity, but it was a tempting idea nonetheless.

"Derrick."

The golden-eyed man nodded towards his apprentice, keeping his eyes on the walking girl as he easily glided on the thin air above her, his powerful wings beating the rain away from her slightly so she wouldn't be _too_ cold.

He wasn't supposed to practice this sort of exercise by the high law, but he had always been reckless, the amber-eyed girl making him much more reckless than he had been before. He broke laws he had followed for years for her, for her happiness and for her safety both and physically and mentally.

His job was simply to protect her from demons.

"What the hell does she think she's doing?"

"She probably thinks she's walking home."

"She came from her home."

Cam sighed, running a hair through his raven hair, the glamour on him letting the rain slip off of him and not wet his body, hair, clothes, or wings.

He never understood Derrick's protective infatuation with his charge.

"She'll be fine Derrick."

_Loving her this way is dangerous, Derrick._

The second thought told him he was a hypocrite—even as the thought to Derrick's reckless regards passed his mind, the other prominent half of his mind was clouded over by a desire to go to Claire's side and see how she was.

The only reason he refused was as to his knowledge she would be with her boyfriend, Kemp Hurley. He had little reason to, but he hated the adolescent teenage boy constantly locking lips with the girl Cam thought to be _his_ angel.

He nearly materialized and burnt Kemp a night he saw his hand go up the platinum blonde girls shirt, the jealousy driving him to snap out the open window before he could see her pull away, telling the boy she felt it to not be _right_.

It was hard not to be able to speak to her, but it was even harder to not be jealous as he watched another make her smile or laugh.

He was turning into Derrick—he didn't speak so violently or angrily, but he was always more calm than his upper hand, and never slaughtered his inner demons by hunting down a physical one as Derrick so loved to.

"Where is she going?" Cam glanced up at Derrick's charge, his confusion spurred by Derrick's words as he truly watched the amber eyed girl, looking to her the way Derrick was.

Massie was walking slowly despite the rain battering her face, tugging at her clothes and making her hands tremble, but her face didn't hold the shivering pain she was in. She never looked down to avoid a puddle or crack—she kept her eyes geared forward, not letting them flicker over the grey roads as they usually would.

Her body was rigid, walking with steps that could more easily be described as mechanical than as fluid, her long limbs looking as though they had dried out, stressing them to move in the way someone ordinary would.

Her face looked toneless, her eyes looking as though they were dead.

::::::::::

"Fuck."

Derrick's golden eyes went over his charge, his throat feeling cold where the necklace all full-guardians wore, pendants of ice slivering down his throat.

He recognized the feeling with a distant clarity than burnt his ice-ridden bones.

His charge wasn't possessed, but she was halfway there.

Flying in front of the amber-eyed girl backwards, he let his golden eyes look directly into hers, something that always pained him in an emptying way when she simply looked directly through him.

She was the one empty now.

Her eyes looked hollowed, emptied into a hollowness he had seen only scarcely many years ago. The look in her eyes were only caused by the offspring of a human and a demon, a people he tried to avoid the best he could.

Necromancers.

Massie wasn't fully possessed, he could tell—she seemed to be under a spell of compulsion, the spelled look swirling in her amber eyes flickering in sparks of darkness within the normally bright pools of amber.

Derrick didn't have a single doubt it was the work of a necromancer, one of the only beings he truly feared. He knew many, and he knew them to never fight fair or play by rules set by the seraphs, twisting words into ones they could against the guardians.

They never killed the guardians—they twisted into their minds into a form of torture, the torture killing them slowly, yet not letting them die.

Insanity was often believed to be worse than death.

He didn't notice Cam's confused look, the raven-haired boy only noticing a robotic-looking girl and a golden-eyed man looking like he was about to stab someone and cry at the same time, something he hadn't seen on his uppers face in the years he had known him.

It was fear, terror, and slivers of fragile hope swirled into a single look of disbelief and despair.

"Derrick?"

"Cam."

"What's up?" Cam tried not to let on how stupid he sounded as he watched Derrick, flying back up to him.

"Massie's spelled."

Cam's head snapped towards his golden friends with a speed that resulted in cramping his neck, the raven-haired boy seeming to not mind the pain too much—he was more interested in watching Derrick's explanation of the least likely scenario that could possibly happen to the amber-eyed girl.

"What, exactly, makes you believe that?"

"Have you looked at her?"

"Maybe someone drugged her while you weren't looking."

Derrick gave his apprentice a look telling him it was wiser for him to simply shut up and believe him, something that was most times wise for the raven-haired boy, something he was always too impulsive to follow.

"Look at her eyes."

Cam's eyes went down to Massie's, still not taking Derrick's prose as a likely scenario.

He was sure his upper had finally gone insane.

::::::::::

Claire was pressed against the window of her rusted pickup truck, arching her back as familiar lips attacked her throat, biting and sucking at the skin there.

Oddly enough, with her boyfriend pressed against her and placing lovebites on her throat, she was daydreaming.

The images swirling in her mind were strange to her—it was less of a daydream and more of a remembrance of a dream the night before, small flashes of golden light flickering through her mind, the dream finding its way back to her mind if she closed her eyes for long enough.

_The boy was glowing—his skin had bands of gold circling him, the pure radiance of the gold color something she had only seen in the sun, something he resembled to her. His aura seemed to _be _the sun—dimmer and less bright, but still somehow illuminating the pitch black room._

_He had off-white wings that could spread to the size of the boys body, made of feathers that seemed to be as soft as a liquid silk, something she knew even without laying a hand on the surreal feathers._

_His back was to her, only revealing the wings, glowing skin, and hair than shone with a straight texture, looking to be made of the purest coal, cold yet boyish. _

_She breathed softly, and the winged boy turned, meeting her green eyes with one that was ice blue, and another a deep green, fixating the mixed eyes on her in a way that made her nearly shudder with a thrill. _

_His skin was light-toned, not minding the gold glow, and his lips were turned into a look of confusion, something also a smirk, looking as though he knew her through and through without even once speaking to her._

_He was an angel._

_And suddenly, Claire was falling, tumbling through blackness._

_The black became gold, and he caught her in leanly muscled arms, looking down at her and making her feel like she was falling again with his blue and green eyed stare._

"Claire?"

The voice of her boyfriend rolled her back to the waking world, startling her. She blinked her green eyes rapidly, trying to let the beautiful boy created by her dreams fall away from her mind, attempting at focusing her attention on Kemp.

"Hmm?"

"You seem distracted."

"Oh."

"Can you try and speak more than a single word?"

"Yeah—I mean, of course I can."

Claire was rolled out of her seat and into a new one in his laps, feeling distracted still as his arms went about her and he turned her to face him.

"Claire, you can tell me."

"I know." Claire leant forward, letting her plush cherry lips meet with his rough ones, closing her eyes and letting her tongue fall through his lips to meet with his.

She kissed him roughly to forget her dream boy.

It was easier.

::::::::::

The amber-eyed girl continued her slow walking pace, not caring that her hands trembled with the violence of the rain and wind that battered her soft face, not knowing that the two angels behind her were worried for her life, safety, sanity, and protection of her mind as they floated gently through the air behind her. She couldn't see them whisper to each other words of concern as though they could hear her; she couldn't see anything.

She was alone in her mind, not having a thought but to go forward without even the knowledge as to why she was going forward, where she was going, or why she was going the place she was.

She was going nowhere; she wasn't there.

She didn't know she wasn't present in her mind.

The amber-eyed girl had gotten exemplary grades on her every report card since she was twelve, been accepted to top-notch colleges, and had read every book on her shelf, but now? She didn't know, and didn't care to know anything—she was lost, she was gone.

She was stolen by the castor, placed under a trance in which she wasn't in control of herself—she didn't know how to control herself because the glamour she was under blurred her from seeing her lack of self control.

She didn't see the castor watching her through the clear portal, something neither of the angels could see either.

Massabielle Block didn't see the car spinning of the side of the road, falling towards her, something only the spell caught sight of.

She stepped in front of the truck, and let her life be taken.

::::::::::

Golden eyes stayed still as Derrick fell to the ground quickly, materializing for the first time on the grounds of earth that he ever had.

He could be banished for doing so.

His skin still glowed, his halo still held, his wings still moved behind him as he kneeled besides the dead body of his charge, the dead body of the woman he had fallen so hard in love with.

His aura seemed to darken for only a moment as he watched the girl, looking more like she was sleeping than someone who had been taken by the ice-ridden hand of a calm death. She looked beautiful still, making him feel like she was the more of an angel than he because she was so _pure_.

It didn't matter; she was dead.

He could hear the voice of his apprentice telling him to appreciate her life, and be grateful she had allowed him to fall in love with her, not mentioning she had never seen him.

Even with the dead brunette lying in front of his upper, he couldn't block the trickle of thoughts that this would result with Derrick having a new charge, far from Claire.

The trickle of thoughts turned to a dam of loneliness, then regret, imagining the beautiful green-eyed girl in Massie's place.

He wouldn't handle it so well as Derrick—Derrick was always one to hide his emotions, believing they were easier to fight when they weren't present inside of him.

Derrick was one to take action, never one to mourn.

Cam's thoughts came quickly to match with Derrick's actions, watching his upper's hand tremble by his side, quickly lost again.

The golden-eyed man brought his hand to rest on the brunettes chest, feeling her stilled heart and feeling his own chest constrict, wishing to punch something or kill some hellish creature in the avoiding way he always loved to to avoid the _feelings_ that seemed to be crushing him, twisting him, killing him.

His hand pressed harder on her chest, and a surge of golden light the same color as Derrick's eyes spurred from his tan hand on her chest, making the skin above her fragile heart illuminate in the way Derrick's aura glew.

The heart beneath his hand stuttered nervously before thrumming against his fingertips in a symphony that made his own grow still, the pale skin seeming to become more tanned with a life he wasn't aware she lacked while she was dead.

Her hand moved, her fingertips curling around his wrist before he could pull it from her chest, his gold eyes widening at both the movement and the beat of heat that fled through where her skin touched his in a way he had always yearned for but was never allowed.

Her amber eyes opened, and she looked to him—not through him as she had so many times before, but _to_ him, watching him with a wonder as to his skin glowing, a confusion as to why he was wearing what she assumed to be wings from a beautifully designed Halloween costume, and amazement that someone so beautiful could live.

"Who are you?"

::::::::::

**Question Of The Day:**

who is your otp?

**M**y **r**e**v**i**e**w **b**o**x **i**s **h**u**n**g**r**y**–**f**e**e**d **i**t**!**!**!**


	3. 03

**Authors Note | **I didn't quite notice how long it's been since I've updated this, but once I had an idea for it, I knew I had to continue with it, and update more regularly.

I've decided to hold this story, Allures (klaroline), and Little Red (stydia) as my top priorities for updating and writing–I've had the idea for writing this as an original story for a while, and I have a few ideas for where to take this.

**Disclaimer | **I do not own the Clique–I only own the plot.

::::::::::

"So…you're a fairy."

"_Angel_."

"And you've been following me for the past eighteen years?"

"_Guarding_ you. It's my job."

"It's your job to watch me shower and take my clothes off?"

Cam let out a peal of laughter at that, and Derrick shot him a golden-eyed glare, narrowing his eyes at him. The raven-haired boy slunk back quietly, still restraining his laughter.

"Yes, but you don't spend the main of your day undressing and showering."

"I'll suppose I have to wear my bikini showering now. Stop laughing." Massie commanded the boy behind Derrick. "Who is he, anyways? Am I bad enough to need two glowing people following me?"

"He's my apprentice."

"So you're a blacksmith now?"

Derrick blinked his golden eyes at her, looking a bit confused before shaking his head slowly. "You're extremely mistaken if you believe blacksmiths are the only people who have apprentices."

"What's his name?"

"I can talk." Cam piped in, standing next to his upper. "I'm Cameron."

"Cameron what?"

"Cameron nothing." Derrick spoke slowly, "Angels are not born–they are created out of heaven for a specific purpose, ours being the work of a guardian."

"So that's why he's Cameron Nothing?'

"I wasn't finished." Massie smirked, but sat back and let the golden-eyed boy speak. "Because angels are created, they do not have parents, and they do not have a figure to take a surname from."

"You talk like you're a textbook."

"That's because he's old. He is a textbook."

"Cam, sometimes it's better when you don't talk."

Massie's amber eyes flickered over the bickering friends, her eyes finally having adjusted to the ethereal glow radiating from their skin.

"Why is your skin like that?"

"It's not my skin. It's an aura." Derrick took a step closer to her, holding out a perfectly bronzed arm bathed in gold. When she looked more closely, she could see that the gold wasn't surrounding him, but hovering slightly against the outlines of his exposed skin. His jean-clad legs were glowing only dimly, more likely because of the fabric covering the skin. She was a bit confused as to why he was wearing _jeans_–though she hadn't spent much of her life thinking about angels, she imagined them wearing golden wreaths of leaves, togas, and sandals–_not_ blue jeans and a red shirt.

Massie waved a hand over his skin, curious as to how warm the aura would be, or if she would be able to touch it. Her hand passed through the band of golden light, but a shiver of warmth ran through her skin when her hand met the aura.

"Can people walk through you?"

"I'm not a ghost, Massie. I'm only glamoured–people know subconsciously to avoid Cam and I without seeing us or noticing us, and if they walk into us, they'll think they walked into an invisible wall, and think nothing of it."

"So why can I see it?"

"Because you died," Cam replied.

"I don't know." Derrick stated at the same time as his apprentice, the two of them exchanging a glance.

"Why am I dead?"

"Just be content with the fact that you _aren't_."

"_Derrick_." Some signals in his mind reminded Derrick that it was the first time Massie had said his name, something he would focus on more when she was asleep and out of her confusion.

"I revived you."

"And does this happen to people regularly?"

"No. And as far as I know, you're the only human to have been able to see through glamour."

"I _can't_ see through…whatever you're talking about, though. If I could, I'm fairly sure I would have noticed a glowing fairy by now."

"_Angel_." Derrick growled. "And I don't have a clue why you can see me _now_, but you couldn't before."

"Maybe it's because you died." Cam stepped forwards, bored again of being silent. He hovered slightly off the ground while Derrick stood planted on the ground, trying to hold eye contact with the already shorter girl.

"I've realized that." Derrick rolled his golden eyes at his apprentice, and Cam grinned.

"Massie!" A clean voice Derrick recognized as Kendra Block rang through the halls, calling for her daughter twice before pulling the door to Massie's room.

"Massie, who are you talking to? I can hear you from downstairs." Kendra looked about the room as if searching for a boy hiding in a closet, her naked eyes unable to see the incandescent beings of heaven standing by Massie.

Massie's eyes went to Derrick and Cam, and Kendra followed her daughter's gaze. "Massie, _what_ are you looking at?" She walked over to the window, glancing out of it and looking to see if it was the object of her daughter's surprise.

"You were talking to Claire." Derrick supplied for the amber-eyed girl, his words unheard to Kendra. Cam quickly straightened at the mention of Claire, looking around as though to find the green-eyed girl.

"I was talking to Claire." Massie echoed, her mother turning back.

"I don't see her."

"On my phone."

"I thought teenagers didn't use their cell phones for talking anymore–it's refreshing to hear that." Kendra Block seemed satisfied with Massie's excuse, and she left after kissing Massie on the cheek. Massie quickly turned the lock on her door when it closed, leaning against the door and turning back on Derrick and Cam.

"Can you be any louder?"

"Actually, we can. _Much_ louder–you're the one your mother can hear. Not us." Derrick smirked at her, running a tanned hand through his wavy, gold-spun hair.

Massie watched the movement with entranced amber eyes, finding it constantly hard not to stare at him. She tried to force into her mind that it was simply because he was an angel, and he had glowing skin and feathered wings, but if that was the full reason, why was it so simple to avert her eyes from his apprentice?

While it was true that Derrick was _much_ more alluring than any man she had met, there was something about him that made it impossible for her to look away from him. He was handsome, but he was somehow perfect and imperfect at the same way.

He was tanned and bronzed, made of clean-cut angles and a chiseled jaw that made him look like a sort of god, his golden eyes and hair blending with his flawlessly tanned skin in a way that made her feel weak.

He was ruggedly handsome in a way that made her curious as to what he would look like _without_ his jeans and shirts, a thought that made her cheeks color and head turn down.

"Then stop making me speak loudly." Massie finally replied, and a spark of amusement flickered through Derrick's golden eyes.

"I wasn't award I was _making_ you speak loudly."

"You were."

"I'll try to keep your voice calm from here on out."

Derrick spread his wings, the white-feathered wingspan longer than the two of his arms could reach. He smoothed the down of the feathers out before letting them fold and close behind him, causing Massie to look behind him to see where his wings had gone, and how the majestic wings had folded back to perfectly when the span was so wide.

"Well," Massie folded her arms over her chest. "I'm showering–I smell like dead people. _Don't_ follow me."

"I'm not allowed to leave you without a guardian for even a moment, Massie. It's against my law to not follow you everywhere you go."

"Then…" Massie snatched two of her shirts from the floor, shoving them over Derrick and Cam's faces, tying them tightly.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Derrick asked, the tone of his voice making it clear that he was smirking even with a shirt covering his face.

"I'm trying to change into my swimsuit."

"So, this is how it's going to be from now on?"

"What's 'it's'?"

"You trying to be conservative."

"Yes! I'm not changing with two strangers watching me."

"You've been doing that for eighteen years now, Massie."

"Then I'm ending the tradition." Massie tied the strapless bandeau top of her bikini over her, adjusting it around her breasts before watching them impatiently.

"Okay." Derrick removed the shirt from his face, his eyes taking a moment to flicker over to her flat stomach and the long, lean legs he so loved before going to Cam, helping him remove the shirt from his face.

"It worries me that you'll be single-handedly killing demons and guardian a helpless human in a century, yet you have yet to master the art of removing shirts from your body."

"It worries me that you like punching demons more than you like stabbing them."

"I like stabbing them just fine; I enjoy providing them with pain before they're sent back to hell more."

"Stop." Massie turned the water on, testing the water with her hand for a few moments before slipping inside. "How do you mean?"

"By what?"

"Demons. And Hell."

"There are demons. They come from hell."

"Shut up." Massie murmured, glaring at Derrick as he chuckled gently.

"Demons are the reason humans need guardians."

"I don't _need_ you."

"Massie, I've saved your life from demons three times."

"So? That's not very–"

"This week." Derrick finished, watching as Massie turned her back on him and rubbed some green shampoo into her hair, her eyes closed as it foamed around her head. Some of the bubbles from the substance trickled down the back of her neck and between her defined shoulder blades, enough to force his gaze away.

Derrick had learned well how to avert his gaze from Massie while she was bathing or changing–he had found himself fighting the urge to press her against the walls of the shower and kiss her hard if he did, something his hundreds of years of restraint almost shattered over.

Massie shattered and broke him, and she made every action of Derrick's impossibly more difficult.

::::::::::

Claire Lyons let a hand run through her white-blonde hair, her mind completely lost as she pulled a thin tank top and boy shorts on and slipped into her bed.

She wasn't too sure why she was going to sleep–it was only seven, but she was tired. Her small body was exhausted, and she had yearned for sleep for the full of the day. Some snake had crept into her mind, whispering for her to sleep, to let her eyes fall on the pillow and close her eyes.

_The boy with the blue and green pair of eyes and black hair was standing in front of her, his skin seeming to be glowing more brightly than before. The golden luminescence danced on his skin, looking like a beautiful fire made of heaven and sunlight, too bright to touch._

_He had a halo circling his head, and wings the length of his arms when spread widely. _

_He was looking around, and Claire did as well for the first time. She was still dressed in the clothes she had fallen asleep in, standing barefoot in a bed of wispy clouds, circling around her ankles, changing and shifting with every movement she made. _

_The boy finally looked at her, and Claire's feet moved to walk towards him, caught in some sort of curious trance for the beautiful boy._

_"What are you?" Claire whispered, her voice delicate as sugar. _What_, not who._

_She didn't need to know who he was–she didn't feel the need to know anything about him other than how his light arms would feel around her, how his reddish lips would feel on her pink ones._

_"I'm…I'm not you."_

_"Are you an angel?" His wings were beating lightly, making the fog of the surface of the clouds fall behind him as he walked towards her. He nodded slightly, looking as though he was going to faint. He looked confused that she was looking at her, and he looked as though he was trying to suppress happiness._

_He knew her, she somehow knew, but _how_ she didn't understand._

_"Do you know me?"_

_Claire knew she was dreaming, and she knew that it would be wisest for her to wake up, but she couldn't yet._

_She needed to know him, and needed to memorize his face._

_"Yes."_

_"How?"_

_His wings beat, and he seemed to glow more brightly. The brighter he glowed, the dimmer he was, and she knew the dream was fading away._

_"How? Please, tell me–at least tell me your name."_

Her sentence was cut off by the disorienting shock of waking up, and she looked up, not feeling her soft pillow against her cheek, or blankets circling her.

She was sitting at her desk in front of a paper, a paper that had been blank before she had fallen asleep.

::::::::::

Cam woke up with the sensation of falling, but unlike a normal being, he was truly _falling_ when he woke.

In his dream, he had floated to the top of Massie's room with closed eyes, and the shock of waking up had sent him crashing to the carpeted floor, saved from breaking his nose only by Derrick flying over and catching his shoulder.

Derrick watched his apprentice before rolling him over and letting him lie on the floor, ignoring Massie's confused expression. "Having fun there?"

"I had a dream." Derrick blinked slightly, unable to remember the last time he had slept himself–guardians slept rarely, and only did when they were truly exhausted. Derrick couldn't fathom a reason why Cam would be exhausted, but he only arched an eyebrow in asking Cam to continue.

"It was about Claire. She was asking about angels, and if I was one, and–"

"_My_ Claire?"

"You're not in possession of Claire, but I suppose so." Derrick supplied, watching Cam as he spoke.

"Why are you dreaming about Claire?"

The door sprang open, and the subject of their conversations ran through the room, her long platinum hair flying behind her as she sat on Massie's bed, clutching papers to her chest as she did.

"Massie, you –" Claire paused, "Who were you talking to?"

"Myself. Making a mental list. You know, a spoken to-do list." Massie said, her eyes going back to the two angels in the room behind her.

"I just had the weirdest dream, and when I woke up, I think I sleep-drew something." Cam seemed to be choking on air as Claire spoke, his eyes fixated on the blonde girl. He clung on to her every word.

"What did you draw?"

Claire held up a picture, handing it to Massie. Massie took it gingerly, her amber eyes going over a perfectly sketched replica of Cam.

::::::::::

**Second note | **A few people have asked, and though it says in the description, this _will_ have a side-plot of Cam&Claire.

Claire does _not_ have a guardian.

**Question Of The Day:**

What's your favorite Lonely Island music video? (If you haven't seen any, comment with your favorite song)

**M**y **r**e**v**i**e**w **b**o**x **i**s** h**u**n**g**r**y**–**p**l**e**a**s**e **f**e**e**d**!**!**!**


	4. 04

**Disclaimer | **I do not own the Clique.

::::::::::

Hard brown eyes fixated on Derrick, watching the guardian and trying to force a feeling of concern or guilt into the reckless man. Derrick only reciprocated the glare with a flippant dismissal, letting half of a smile play across his features.

"I'll assume yow know why you're here." The seraph angel by the name of Joshua watched him with catlike eyes, searching for some nervousness on the guardian's face that was never present.

Derrick hated seraphs.

They were angels like he, but different all the same. A seraph was not a warrior as a guardian was–they remained in heaven all their life, and they never moved a finger to protect anyone. They maintained the peace up above, and were the charge to guardian angels. They were able to easily control the angel, and they had the power to strip the guardian of their magic.

They had the power to blacken an angel's aura and set them to earth as a fallen angel, and could take away an angel's wings.

Derrick had had much too many conversations with Joshua revolving around the nature of removing him from his position as a guardian angel.

Joshua never dared to truly take his magic away.

"Did I forget your birthday?" Derrick offered the thin joke with half of a smile, Joshua not picking up on the joke. The guardian chose not to reveal the nature of the joke, being that a being that was created could not have a birthday, but he was stopped by an annoyed look from his upper.

"You did something to that charge of yours," Joshua stood, his syrup eyes boring into the gold ones of Derrick. "It's no secret that she can see yourself and Cameron."

Derrick cleared his throat, the words that came from Joshua much more blunt than he had expected. "Jesus, how fast does news travel around here?"

"_How_ does she see you?"

"She died," Derrick shrugged simply, "Because she was possessed, or something of the sort. She didn't die naturally, so I brought her back."

"That doesn't explain why she can see you."

"Pardon?"

"She can see you while you are glamoured. Even if she crossed over to the other side and back again, she would have no knowledge of our realm, and no sight whatsoever."

"She could be different." Derrick offered, "Not everyone is created equally. Maybe because she was possessed before she died, she received supernatural sight."

"You know something."

"I really don't, though that must be a shock to you. I don't spend every moment of my life trying to figure out how to best you–that's automatically given."

Joshua made an annoyed noise, "Humoring me isn't the wisest option right now, Derrick."

"You can't go through life always like you have a–" Joshua could tell where the ending of sentence was headed, and cut him off with a narrow glare.

"_Derrick_."

"Joshua, I'm telling you. _I don't know_." Derrick said, exasperated.

"Find out."

"How do you expect me to do that, exactly?" Derrick gave his upper a coy look, a golden eyebrow raised in question.

A smile pulled at Joshua's face, "That isn't my job to find out. She's your charge, and your responsibility. I don't dabble in human affairs."

"Then _why_ do you care if she has some form of sight?"

"_You_ are my responsibility. You went against the law, and you will be punished for your actions if you don't find out the specifics of what happened to her when she crossed over to the other side." Joshua turned away from Derrick, looking back at him with a half amused expression, "You are dismissed."

::::::::::

Cam was in his own hell back at the Block residence.

His multicolored eyes flickered over the two girls as they spoke back and forth of him without directly speaking of _him_, and it was making his head ache. It was confusing to say the least, and it was hard for him to follow the conversation about the 'mystery man' Claire had dreamt of.

"Everyone you dream about is someone you've seen before. That means I've seen him before." Claire was saying excitedly, "But I feel like he's someone I would remember."

"Maybe he's a celebrity. Or a book character you've imagined."

"Then I would recognize him!"

"Maybe you recognize me because I'm not some weird fairy boy, and an actual human being." Cam murmured, slightly off from the truth but not caring. Massie made a curt noise to shut him, earning a strange look from Claire.

"Massie, are you—"

"I'm fine." Massie replied quickly, standing up from the bed she was seated at. "I need some wear. Water. And air." Her tone was nearly frantic, and Cam could easily see that Massie was feeling burdened from the stress of seeing Cam, but being unable to look at or acknowledge him.

"I'll come with you." Claire offered.

"That isn't necessary." Before Claire could make a syllable of protest, Massie slammed the door shut and left Cam and Claire alone in the room together.

"Hey," Cam's attempt at starting a conversation was futile—it was fairly useless, seeing as she couldn't see or hear him, but he felt it polite to say something, "I'm Cam. The guy you were talking about. I've met you, but you've never met me. Except for when you're dreaming."

Claire looked down to her paper, not hearing or seeing the celestial being in the room. She lightly brushed her slender fingers against the paper, light eyebrows knitted together in some look of confusion. "Who are you?" she inquired.

"Cameron." Cam supplied, looking to her as though she would reply. She gave no notice of him, going back to her wonderings silently.

"Great way to pick up a girl, Cam." An amused voice came, and Cam quickly twisted around to hit the source of the voice. Derrick only caught his fist, amused, and pushed Cam back.

"Shouldn't you be following Massie?"

"She screamed at me to leave, so I did." Derrick grinned, the reason behind the smile something Cam couldn't fathom. "But I can see her from here."

Cam followed Derrick's gaze to the open window, revealing an amber-eyed girl watching the mailbox intently. Every so often, her fingers would curl into a fist and release. She seemed agitated, but Cam could easily see why.

"I think I'm going to go check up on her." Derrick broke the silence again, beating his wings a single time to stretch them out.

"Derrick, I don't—"

"Cam, it's my job. I don't care whether or not it's a good idea." Like he usually did, Derrick's cutoff supplied the rest of Cam's thought. The raven-haired boy couldn't offer another argument—Derrick had already disappeared in golden mist. Cam believed it to be a rather showy display seeing as he could have flown out the window, but he simply shrugged it off and went back to watching Claire.

::::::::::

"Having fun?" A casual tone cracked through the yard, and Massie flinched and swore at the same time. Her amber eyes narrowed into a glare, and she crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive stance.

"Do you need something?"

"Not in particular." He walked over to a tree, fingering the too-shiny leaves and hiding a small smile from the annoyed girl.

"Then why are you here?"

"It's my job. Technically, I've been easy on you the last day or so, but I'm supposed to be your side every hour of every week for the rest of your short life."

"Short?" Massie inquired, "Meaning that I'm going to die at twenty-five, but you just decided not to tell me?"

Derrick turned around to face her, trying not to laugh. "That wasn't what I meant. My life is infinite. So long as I am not banned from the gates of heaven, I cannot die. Yours, however, will only last for eighty years, give or take."

"What makes you so sure you won't be killed?" Massie countered, looking fairly proud of herself for presenting the argument. Derrick only gave her an obvious glance, presenting his forearm to her.

"This."

"Your arm?" Massie asked incredulously, blinking at him in a fashion that told him she thought him slightly mad. He rolled his eyes impatiently, taking a few long-legged strides closer.

"You're not looking."

"I am."

"You're _not_. You're letting yourself see what you wish to see, but you have the capacity to look much more clearly." His eyes locked with Massie's, "_Look_."

She did.

She exhaled softly, lightly running her fingers over his forearm and leaving a brush of heat where her hands contacted his skin. Derrick cringed at the touch, and jerked his arm away slightly, but simply grit his teeth and let her move her velvet fingers over the mark on his arm.

The mark was engraved in his arm in a gold color, looking like some mixture of symbols that represented a language she would never be able to understand. The symbols made her eyes hurt to read—the longer she looked at them, the more dizzying they appeared, and the shapes and movements of the letters would leave her mind if she looked away for even a moment.

"What are they?" Massie asked, pulling her hand away. She had the tilted sensation to touch him again when she moved away, but she stayed still and simply watched the heavenly man.

"A bound, done by my seraph. It keeps me from being killed so long as I am outside the gates of heaven while the damage is done."

"And if you are in heaven?"

"Then I am killed."

Their eyes locked, but for once, neither of them said a word.

::::::::::

Claire was watching Massie and Derrick curiously—or rather, what appeared to her as her best friend speaking to the air. She watched as her friend brought a hand to the air as though to caress its skin, and then speak hurriedly, then gently. It was a strange display, watching her friend—her friend looked fascinated by what she saw, intrigued by the nothingness to Claire's eyes.

She wondered for a moment if her friend had lost it, but she knew better. Massie wasn't crazy; Claire wasn't seeing.

She didn't have a clue how she knew, but something in her heart told her the mystery invisible to her connected to the winged boy from her dreams.

* * *

sorry that took a while—I've been a bit distracted lately by the flamers and such.

leave a review,

—nalanda


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